


forward without fear

by rainbeep



Category: DCU (Comics), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Additional tags and ships will be added, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Gen, Rating May Change, The JLA and the PHA exist in the same universe don't @ me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-06-03 03:45:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19455673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbeep/pseuds/rainbeep
Summary: “Either I get promoted to Impulse here, or I get my hero license there." Iris West wants to prove she's not just a sidekick - even if it means studying abroad to get her hero license in Japan.A collection of DC/BNHA drabbles in chronological order from Irey's first year, to the end of her exchange program, and everything in between.





	1. Chapter 1

“When am I going to be promoted?” 

Irey spoke almost too quickly off of Batman’s question - “ _Any other issues to be raised_?” - having sat silent for an eternity already. She couldn’t even remember what was covered, having been preoccupied with her paperwork, staring down at her typed words.

Her voice was too loud in her own ears, too nervous and shaking, but it came to be, and that was more than she could ask for. Irey’s fingers skimmed the curving table, her chair pressing into the back of her legs as she stood, nearly toppling the seat. She met her leader’s gaze. 

Nightwing tilted his head toward his father - a clear instruction to pay attention to _Batman_ , not him. Irey had already talked through this with him. Seeking solace in her father’s friend wasn’t going to win her any points with Batman, she knew. She wilted, but only slightly, sliding her gaze to the men at the head of the table. 

“I do not believe we’ve spoken of _if_ you’re getting promoted, let alone _when_ ,” the Bat spoke. Beside him, Superman remained quiet, peering at the paperwork her fingers fumbled with. Irey struggled not to look again at her leader, at her father, both sitting with equally neutral expressions on their faces. “What caused you to believe you _would_ be upgraded, Kid Flash?” 

“I’ve – been Kid Flash for five years now,” she said, licking her lips. Trying to speak evenly. “And been on the Teen Titans for three. I want - … I have to know I’m getting somewhere, Batman. And if I’m not, I want to do something about it.” 

There was a lull as Nightwing coughed, bringing up the computer display on his cuff. He flicked his finger upward, the translucent display screen enlarging in front of the Justice League members as he displayed her file.

“Here’s the thing,” he said, leaning back in his chair. This had been rehearsed, but somehow he seemed more relaxed than she could even fathom, nonchalant, words easily confident. Wally’s gaze jumped from his daughter to the screen as Dick spoke. “She’s been doing well. She’s mentored the Junior Justice League, and she hasn’t missed a scheduled patrol or Watchtower surveillance shift in months.”

“Robin hasn’t missed any scheduled activities since he joined.” Batman’s eyes narrowed at Dick, jaw tight. There was a lilt to his voice that made her pause - his dad voice. She’d heard even Dick begin to use it as their leader. “Your point, Nightwing?” 

“She’s doing _better_ ,” he said. Irey’s nails dug into her palms, fighting down her urge to speak. To interrupt. “Kid Flash has been making strides to get to where she is now. I’ve been working with her – hell, Damian’s been working with her, so she can improve. She deserves some recognition, is all I’m saying. I think upgrading her title is the least we can do.” 

Even with his mask covering most of his expression, Irey still felt Bruce’s unwavering gaze on her, and that was never a good thing. Batman never met her gaze unless she’d done something wrong, and even with the blue boy scout offering her an encouraging smile – she wilted, her will to _run_ causing her to fumble with her papers. 

“ _Robin_ ,” Batman corrected, “is not going to be promoted any time soon. And if he isn’t, Kid Flash doesn’t deserve –” 

“Bruce.”

The silence now was different now as Wally interrupted, the usage of Batman’s real name enough to make the rest of the League peer at him. Wally was sitting back in his own chair, arms crossed over his chest.

“Isn’t all of this _familiar_ ?” Nightwing said, an expression on his face that Irey couldn’t pinpoint. It was fond, wry, a little ironic, lips twisted in such a way that he almost looked like a kid himself. “We – Wally and I, and Kaldur, and _Roy_ – we all asked you for a chance before. It’s no different now. Give her a chance to be her own hero.”

“I’m telling you she doesn’t _deserve_ a chance.”

Her papers fluttered, her palm slamming her papers down on the table ahead of Batman, the paper clipped stack slapping on the wood. Her cheeks were pink, shoulders tight as she leaned forward. Wally could see her vibrating, her emotions almost too strong to keep her in a single place, threatening to phase the papers though the table.

“If you don’t think I deserve to be more than a sidekick,” she said, pushing the pile of paperwork at him, “there’s a whole system in Japan that will train me to get a hero’s license. If there’s something here that Nightwing isn’t teaching me properly, they will do it. I did my research, _Batman_ ,” she spat, tuning out her father’s cough, his attempt to reel her in. “Either I get promoted to Impulse here, or I get my hero license _there_. All my findings about their methodology - their system and it's benefits - I did all this research and I _will_ go." Now she paused, as if realizing her outburst, pulling back from the table. "May I be dismissed?”

“You may go, Kid Flash.” 

The aggravated groan that followed on the heels of his words – “ _ God,  _ I’m not a  _ kid _ anymore!” – seemed fleeting, the door being slammed as she disappeared. The stack of paperwork in front of Bruce ruffled once again from her speedy exit, until Superman reached out to pull it toward him.

“That – could’ve gone worse,” Wally mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. Nightwing elbowed him, tilting his head in Superman’s direction as the Kryptonian rifled through the paperwork.

“She’s been pulling that information together for weeks, dad. I think reaching out to the Pro Hero Association is a good idea for the Justice League,” Dick said. “Working to make us a cohesive entity and see what they’re doing that we’re not. She has a solid plan. I might have worked on it work her, but this is all her idea. The…  _ presentation _ needs work. But Wally’s still working on that, himself.”

“— _ Hey _ !”

“It’s true, KF.”

“Her  _ spelling _ needs work, too,” Clark spoke, an amused expression on his face as he turned another page. His voice, warm and homey, seemed to relax the room, shaking his head as he turned a page over.

“Hey, I helped her with the wording. I never said I’d help the kid  _ write _ the thing,” Dick said, a hushed snickering coming from the redhead beside him. Like father like daughter, he assumed. He’d  _ seen _ Wally’s papers when they were teenagers and they weren’t much better than Irey’s. “Read over it, dad, at  _ least _ . Can we go?”

There was silence as Wally stood, letting out a yawn as he stretched, before pushing his chair in. Dick followed, waiting for his father to excuse them, Batman’s gaze caught on the essay Clark was handing him.

“You can go,” he said, hollow. Even from his distance, Dick could see his chin dip to peer at the document, removing the paperclip so he could look at the pages properly.

The bird smiled, clapping his friend on the shoulder as they left.

* * *

Irey found her essay in her Titan tower room days later, stapled cleanly, with multiple colors of ink over top of the typed words. She recognized the Wayne’s handwriting, and Superman’s as well – and there, in the typical purple pen her mother used, were tiny tweaks in cursive. _This is too personal – don’t use ‘me’ or ‘I’ if this is supposed to be a proposal document. I love you._

On top of it all was a carefully placed sticky note with Bruce’s usual capitalized handwriting.

_Impulse:_

_Revise this proposal and forward the document to me. I have put an application to the Yuuei high school in your Titan e-mail. Complete it._

“This,” she breathed, “is the best day _ever_.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...Flight 796 from Central City International Airport to Tokyo Narita Airport has been postponed due to criminal activity in the area. Flights in and out of the country have been restricted. The Pro Hero Association of the Greater Kanto Region will provide more information as the situation progresses....

“Irey.”

His voice is enough to make her stutter awake, eyes snapping open and sitting up. For several seconds, he watched as she fumbled, hero instincts kicking in before she was truly awake and preparing for the alert of an emergency that never came.

“Irey?”

“Y – Dick?” she asked, blinking, trying to take in the weight of her leader on her mattress, the way he peered at her. His hand reached out to settle on her shoulder, the pressure seeming to be enough for her to realize that a mission alert wasn’t about to come over her communicator. She sagged, reaching up to wipe at an eye, head cocked. “What – what time is it?”

“It’s midnight,” he said. “This isn’t an assignment or an urgent matter, okay? But – get dressed and come meet us in the lounge.” She was still quiet, mismatched irises peering at his, glittering under the string lights she had hanging off of her headboard.

“… Dick? What’s wrong?”

“… Your flight’s been postponed,” he said simply, reaching out to brush a curl from her shoulder. The leader stood, suddenly appearing his age to the teenage girl. He then leaned over, brushing a kiss to her forehead before he headed to the door of her room. “We’ll discuss it out there, little bird. Get some pants on.”

And she’s left in the dark, still trying to adjust to what had happened. Irey swung her legs off the side of her bed, reaching to check her phone for any notifications that might warn her of what had happened. A new e-mail blinks onto her screen, and she squinted.

“ _Shit_.”

_Flight 796 from Central City International Airport to Tokyo Narita Airport has been postponed due to criminal activity in the area. Flights in and out of the country have been restricted. The Pro Hero Association of the Greater Kanto Region will provide more information as the situation progresses_.

* * *

“Impulse.”

“ – What -- … Why? What happened?”

Batman wouldn’t meet her gaze, and neither would Nightwing, the bird’s mask clashing with the casual wear he had on. It was a moot point, her uncle’s mask, but it added a sense of seriousness to the situation - even as he pushed a mug of hot chocolate into her hands. It was piled high with whipped cream, like it always was when Nightwing had bad news to deliver.

Judging by the height of the foam, it was going to be a doozy.

“News is still unfolding,” Batman spoke, pressing a key on the hologram keyboard. The screens ahead of them lit up, headlines bold across websites, video footage of her soon-to-be high school being spoken over in rushed Japanese. “It appears there was an attack by villains on the UA school campus. They’ve apprehended those physically involved, but the Association is working on figuring out the grander picture.”

There was a pause as Nightwing returned to stand beside Batman, the younger man exhaling. The sound carried disappointment, and it made her stomach churn even more than the pile of whipped cream she was working her way through to get to the actual drink underneath.

“Until they’re positive no one has left the country who may be connected to the attack,” he spoke, eyes meeting hers. He made an absent motion toward her face, like he was wiping his lip, and belatedly she mimicked it, sticking her white-coated thumb into her mouth. “They’re ceasing flights in and out of the area.”

“On top of that, we are voluntarily pulling you from the exchange –“

“ _What_?” There is a choked noise as she interrupts, moving to put her mug on the coffee table.

“—until they provide the League with more information. At this time, we’re deeming it unsafe for you to travel.”

“You can’t be serious. You can’t be serious.” Irey shakes her head, fists balling into her night shirt on her thighs. “You’re telling me – a _hero_ – that it’s _unsafe_ for a hero to go?”

“Iris.” Bruce’s tone is threatening, the tone he had used all those weeks previously, but it had something in it that resembled her father’s. A caring edge that licked at the edges of her name, no matter how small. “We are deeming it unsafe _because_ you are a hero. This attack involved students. Until they are able to prove it’s appropriate for you to be there, it’s unwise –“

“It’s _unwise_ for me to _not_ be there!” She snapped. “I’m – so I’m good enough to be risking my life here, but not there? You’re – you’re just _looking_ for reasons to keep me here, _Bruce_.”

“ _Iris_.” It’s Nightwing now, sharp and cutting through the barely contained teenage fury. Her eyes bounce to his. “We’re holding you here regardless of how you feel about it. The League is helping the Association investigate. They don’t know yet if this is something bigger at play and involving you in this mess isn’t good for anyone, not to mention the press. You _know_ how much the press loves to put their noses where it doesn’t belong.”

Dick watched as her shoulders sank, fight turning into disappointment, her eyes sweeping to the screen behind the men. A man with a horse face is broadcasting, speaking over footage of police officers escorting a mutated being from the building. The video is shaky, shot from overhead, but the visage of the bulky monster is enough for her mouth to open, unvoiced questions zooming through her mind.

“…Okay,” she said, fingers absently reaching for her mug. “So – how long? – _oh_ , nuts. This is going to make me miss the Sports Festival,” she realized, letting out a long groan. “That _sucks_.”

“The League and I are going to re-negotiate the contract we have in place with the school,” Batman said, ignoring the girl’s exasperated noise as she slouched once more, slurping her drink. “Until then, you are to continue your Japanese lessons through Gotham Academy. Patrol will begin tomorrow evening with Flash. Understood?”

“Understood.” A pause. “—Can I get a note for school tomorrow? It’s, like, after one in the morning.”

“No, Iris.”

“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” she mumbled, finishing off her hot chocolate before standing. With a gentle breeze, the mug disappeared from her hands – the sound of it settling in the kitchen sink soft in the background – and she had reached up to wipe any remaining whipped cream from her mouth.

“You are dismissed.”

Bruce turned to his son as Irey seemingly vanished, exhaling as Nightwing pulled his mask from his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Hopefully this is just a passing issue,” Dick said, his words tired, heroic persona peeling away as soon as he had removed the domino mask from his face.

“I doubt it.” Batman pressed a few more keys, typing something into the computer. The news station disappeared, a file appearing onto the screen. Japanese filled half of the translucent display, an image of a smiling blonde taking over the other portion. “From what Oracle has gathered, it doesn’t look like this is a single occurrence. Prior to this attack, one of their top heroes accepted a position at the school. We’re suspecting the attack might have had him targeted.”

“Toshinori Yagi, huh?” Dick tilted his head, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. “That’s the hero Superman was photographed with a few years back, right?”

“Yes. All Might.”

The younger man made a noise of acknowledgement, eyes on the screen. They stood in quiet for several seconds, mulling over their thoughts.

“Well,” Dick finally spoke, “if Superman can trust him to be the Symbol of Peace, I think Irey will be in good hands.”

“We will see.” But Batman’s voice held no malice – there might have even been a hint of amusement, reaching out to put his hand on his son’s shoulder, much like Nightwing had done for his charge hours before. “Patrol calls.”

“Yeah, yeah. Give me ten, dad.” Dick carefully avoided the gloved palm that went to cuff at his hair, a breath of laughter following, before ducking away to get changed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had come to become better, and that was what Nezu wanted from all of his students. People often had tarnished parts of their composition that needed tweaking, and it was easier to make good adults out of well-meaning children than try to change a finished product.

“Behave.”

“ _Daddy_.” Her voice was exasperated, biting down the urge to roll her eyes. Irey’s fingers fumbled with her carry-on duffel bag, nails dragging down the texture of its strap before settling down. “You _read_ the contract B – the _school_ put together for me, y’know? I can’t do _anything but_ behave.”

The ear-to-ear grin that Wally wore was enough to tell the fifteen-year-old that he was simply needling her, reaching out to cup his daughter’s face in his palms. He planted a kiss on the top of her head, smoothing down a few of her stray hairs from the sloppy set of pigtails she wore.

“You should have let your mother fix those for you,” he said, belatedly, leaning back and putting his hands in his jacket. It was a vague attempt not to fawn over her, Irey knew.

“They’re probably not going to survive the flight, anyway, daddy.”

His laughter was little more than a breath, eyes darting up to the screen displaying all the flights. There were several beats as Irey followed his gaze, grip tightening on her suitcase, before she returned her attention to him.

“You have Hizashi-sensei’s number,” she said, “and mister – Nezu-sensei’s. I’m sure they’ll let you know when I get there, even if I’m jet lagged. And I’ll text you as soon as I can, okay?”

“I just – worry about you, Iris.”

“I _know_ , dad.” Only now did she roll her eyes, a smile that mirrored his from earlier appearing, and without warning she let go of her suitcase’s handle and threw her arms around his neck. “But I’ll be okay. Flying in a plane is _far_ less dangerous than some of the missions I’ve gone on, yeah?”

“That isn’t helping your case, turtle.”

“ _Dad_.”

“Go on,” he said, releasing his grip from her. “Be good. Learn new things. Have fun, but don’t get into trouble.”

There were a few moments of quiet between them, Irey peering over at the flight display once more, before she took a minute step away from him.

“I gotta go.”

“I know.” His exhale seemed to age him, the weight of his daughter no longer being _little_ weighing heavily on his shoulders. Wally had to fight the urge to reach back out, offering the teenage girl a smile.

“Talk to you later.”

And with little more than her own bright expression, she turned, carting her suitcase and carry on into the line for security.

* * *

Iris hoped she never had to fly again. – At least, not for _several_ months.

She had never been a ‘ _hurry up and wait’_ person, and she had never been comfortable sitting for so long. The teen struggled to stay still during a movie, let _alone_ a thirteen-hour flight. By the time it had ended, nearly nightfall in Tokyo, she was torn between being mentally exhausted and physically ready to go for a run.

At least she’d gotten the window seat. That had been a perk. And at least the flight had internet; she watched the highlights from the U.A. Sports Festival from the school’s video channel, struggling to keep up with the announcer’s rapid-fire Japanese (and the occasional peppering of English, shouted at the top of his lungs with a fervor that brought a smile to her face.)

Irey had never seen so many powers. They called them _quirks_ , she corrected herself. It was like Japan was flooded with them, some of them flashy and others more standard, and others so curious in how their hosts found ways to be heroic with them. It was something she had never really gotten to think about: being a hero was just … in her blood. In who she was, in the speed force that hummed like static against her skin. She had never looked at her quirk and decided _not_ to use it for good.

She wondered how many of the students had the same upbringing. She recognized one boy, quickly shown after a flame-headed man, the broadcast labeling him as the nation’s number two hero.

Setting her lips, Irey realized a lot of the students might not be in too dissimilar a situation as her. How many of them had chosen to be heroes? How many of them had been wearing hand-me-down titles like her, wanting to grow into their own being?

How many of them had grown tired of the shadow they inhabited, shaped like their fathers?

As interesting as the festival was, the broadcast, and even the small interviews afterward, had only lasted her a few hours. She’d dug up photos from the event and fan photos on social media, absently following a few of her peers from the event – even if she couldn’t quite understand _all_ of the captions underneath the photos yet.

Meandering through newspaper articles about the recent events in the Musutafu and reading up on U.A.’s history only occupied her for another hour or so. The rest of the flight was agonizingly long. Irey could only flip through social media so often, and even that became tiresome after a certain point.

She hadn’t realized she had dozed off, head against the window, until she had to be gently awoken by one of the flight attendants. Irey was one of the last on the plane, pulling her Wayne Enterprises duffel bag from the overhead compartment and making her way into the airport. Absently, she offered the attendants a half-hearted duck of her head, realizing she had made it abroad.

If she hadn’t before, she did now, gazing up at the signs in multiple languages that directed her to baggage claims. Japanese would be her third language, and even though her studying had begun weeks and weeks ago – before she had even brought the idea of going abroad to the Justice League, because the speedster didn’t know how _not_ to jump into things head first - she knew she was bound to misread the characters and make mistakes.

The airport, thankfully, was forgiving. It was intended for foreigners, even more so than a lot of places would be, she assumed. She was able to pick out her mustard-yellow suitcase with ease, hauling it from the conveyor belt, a quiet murmur coming from her mouth as she tried to remember how to introduce herself.

“You will meet Present Mic,” Bruce had told her a few days ago, drawing up a photo onto the large screen of a blonde-haired man in a leather jacket. The smile on his face seemed to nearly span ear-to-ear, earnest, a pair of sunglasses shielding his eyes from view. “He speaks fluent English, and he will escort you to the dorms. Principal Nezu will also be accompanying him.”

He had lost her after that, staring at the photo of the white rat in a tie. Surely that wasn’t his power. Not that she would ask, not then, or now. But she _did_ wish she had paid more attention, peering out into the crowd of people going to exit the airport. What _were_ their powers? How were they –

“Iris!”

_Oh_.

So _that_ was his power. Irey blinked at the man ahead of her – as did many people around him – his voice carrying with an unnatural ease. He looked nothing like his photo. Tall, gangly, a mess of a blonde bun taking the place of the manicured style that she’d been seen. The only way Irey was positive it was Present Mic was his smile, just as earnest, reaching up to push up his thin-rimmed glasses on his nose before waving at her.

“M – Present Mic?”

“You got ‘em!”

Irey moved, outstretching her hand to shake his. Then she stuttered, going to bow instead like she’d been taught, awkward and uncertain. The man couldn’t help but let out a bit of laughter, taking her suitcase handle in one hand and putting his other palm on the top of her head. His English was almost perfect, a lilt to his words being his only tell that he wasn’t a native speaker; but his actions were entirely as if she were still home, safe and comfortable.

“Principal Nezu is in the car,” he said, peering down at the teen. His hand had moved from her unruly hair, hovering behind her back to make sure she stayed beside him in the busy airport. “We’ve got your ID card made up, so you can go to the dorms and get comfy. I bet you’re tired, yeah?”

She nodded wordlessly. His voice carried with ease, a volume just loud enough that she could hear him over the background chatter without being obnoxious. As they travelled through the airport, stepping foot outside with a gentle evening breeze, Irey finally gathered her courage to speak again.

“You can call me Irey,” she said, eyeing the vehicle ahead of them as the engine came to life. “And you’re - … Hizashi?”

“Yamada-sensei,” he corrected. “Or Mic-sensei.”

Despite her knee-jerk reaction to apologize, a wide smile came back onto his face. It was the same as before, eyes crinkling at the corners. He wasn’t offended.

He would have to warn her about speaking out of turn with Aizawa, however, opening the car door to let her inside after they put the teen’s luggage in the trunk.

“Good evening, Iris.”

Nezu’s expression nearly came to mirror Hizashi’s. Her attention darted to him just as she had one foot into the car, immediately bending forward into an overzealous bow. When she came back up, the top of her head thumped against roof. Nezu peered past her to the younger man. The rat was greeted with a look that told him enough. He coughed, a small paw coming up to muffle a chuckle.

“Good evening - hi -” she stumbled, sitting down and sliding over to make room. A hand met the back of her head, rubbing over the smarting area.

“Nice to see Present Mic got you here in one piece.”

“Hey,” Hizashi intoned, leaning back against the seat. His posture was almost laughably relaxed, especially compared to the student beside him, her back rimrod straight. “Wasn’t hard finding her. He had warned me about the pigtails.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Iris.”

He stuck out a paw. With only a blink of hesitation, one showing her whip-fast processing, she held her hand out, carefully letting him shake one of her fingers in greeting.

“Nice to meet you, too, Nezu-sama.”

The girl wasn’t the one the Bat had warned him about, but Nezu knew better than to expect her to be wholly herself after a long flight. She wouldn’t probably be herself for a few days, at least, wound too tight with nerves to show her true colors.

He also knew to take the man’s words with a grain of salt. He had seen Kid Flash’s file on his own, and her spirit spoke more than his opinion. The letter she had written for admissions proved that.

And even if his opinion _did_ ring true… she had come to become better, and that was what Nezu wanted from all of his students. People often had tarnished parts of their composition that needed tweaking, and it was easier to make good adults out of well-meaning children than try to change a finished product.

He had faith in his school. He had faith in her. The rat gave her a small smile, watching as she mimicked it, eyes tired and hands folded tightly in her lap.

“Your dorm room is on the third floor…”


End file.
